Downpour
by numberthirtynine
Summary: Meet Percy; one of the best agents the FBI has ever seen. Meet Annabeth; the girl at the top of the America's most wanted list. He's smart, cunning, and a stubborn pain in the ass that doesn't stop until he gets what he wants. She's dangerous, powerful, and perhaps the most beautiful thing Percy has ever laid eyes on.
1. The Way I Am

_**I wanted to do something a little bit different, and I didn't know how well it would work with the Percy Jackson characters but I decided to do it anyway. To avoid confusion, Storm is just Annabeth's name created by the media. She is a criminal, he is an FBI agent, and this may be a mature story...**_

* * *

 _ **~Annabeth~**_

"Please don't hurt me," the middle-aged man pleaded, a sad look in his slightly wrinkled eyes. He kept on looking back and forth between the gun I was holding against his forehead and my eyes, probably searching for some sort of clue as to what I was going to do with him. I had no intentions of killing or even hurting, the innocent old man, but he didn't need to know that. In a way, I was doing him a favor. Judging by the lack of a ring on his finger, he wasn't married, which meant he could use the whole "I was held at gunpoint by _the_ Storm" thing as a way to get into some lady's pants.

The sound of a woman's whimpering drew me out of my very unprofessional and distracted train of thoughts. She, like the man in front of me, was pleading for her life - but her words sounded much more urgent and rushed. I turned around and a feeling of raw rage coursed through my veins when I saw what was happening.

One of the idiot men I had hired for the job was touching the poor woman in ways that no woman should ever be touched. He wore a sickening smile on his face as he violated the petrified young woman. From what I could see, he hadn't done anything too serious yet, but judging by the way his gloved hand was slowly slipping up her inner thigh told me exactly what he intended to do.

In an instant, I removed my gun from the man's forehead and pointed it at my "colleague". Without a moment of hesitation or remorse, I clenched my finger ever-so-slightly, pulling the trigger. I didn't have to look to know I hit him - my aim was perfect - but the sound of his body flopping onto the hard ground confirmed that the bullet hit my target.

He was dead.

"Everybody take cover!" I yelled at the terrified people that sat in a large circle on the ground. They didn't need to be told twice, and in seconds every person was safe from any of the bullets that were sure to be flying very soon. As if they were reading my mind, a set of four men came sprinting out of the vault with large duffle bags in hand.

"We got the money, sweetheart," One of the overly flirtatious men told me with a disgusting smirk. "Now let's get the hell..." he trailed off as he saw his partner's dead body surrounded by a pool of his own blood. His face morphed into one of vicious anger within a fraction of a second when he processed what must've happened.

"Oops," I murmured just loud enough that the men could hear me, "My finger must've slipped." What came next was expected. All four men had their guns pointed, and firing, at me. I easily dodged the sloppily aimed bullets, sending a few of my own right back at them. Three bullets, three men down. My precision impressed even myself, but while I was mentally patting myself on the back, the last man had managed to pierce me in the shoulder with a bullet. He was dead within a fraction of a second, but the intense pain in my shoulder didn't die with him.

Hissing through the pain, I hastily ripped off a piece of my long sleeved shirt and wrapped it tightly above the wound, tying the two ends together. Looking over my shoulder at the large grandfather clock that sat in the corner of the room, I saw that I had only three minutes until the police would arrive. I walked over to the dead men that were laying on the floor and squatted down to pick up one of the bags filled with what I assumed to be money. I also patted all four of them down to make sure that they didn't selfishly take any for themselves - which they did - about one grand each. Rolling my eyes, I stood up and began to make my way towards the back doors of the bank just as I heard the sound of nearing sirens.

"Sorry about that, guys," was the last thing I said before exiting the bank and jumping on my sleek black motorcycle with the duffle bag draped across my shoulders.


	2. When We Met

**I posted a chapter in Percy's point of view and decided that I didn't like it and took it down. You guys probably won't be reading much under his POV. I don't understand how a guy's mind works so anything I write ends up really shitty.**

"Son of a bitch," I hissed while angrily closing my burner phone. The loud snap echoed throughout the empty parking garage in which I was standing. My frustrated sounds of breath filled the eerie silence in the area, and the sounds of my irritation bouncing back at me from all directions was enough to push me off the edge I was only just hanging onto.

With one last disgruntled grunt, I threw my phone as hard as I could across the vacant garage, watching with narrowed eyes as it hit a distant wall and shattered on impact. I had a good arm - my father always said that I should have played softball. I let out an unamused snort. If only my old man could have seen me then - a criminal who just lost their biggest income job of the year.

I shook my head. I could not let this get to me. You could not be in my line of work and constantly be stressing out about anything and everything, so I made a decision right then that I knew I would later regret - to relax and have _fun._

~oO0Oo~

The club was crowded and uncomfortable. As soon as the bodyguard stationed outside the building pushed open one of the huge doors, I was sent on sensory overload. The flashing strobe lights were so bright that they nearly blinded me, the smells so putrid that I nearly gagged, and the heat radiating off the closely packed bodies of the club's occupants instantly created a thin layer of sweat on my body, making my skin tight black pants and top set feel even tighter.

Ignoring the lingering stares of men attempting to undress me with their eyes, I pushed my way through the crowd and towards the bar - I was going to have to get absolutely wasted in order for me to loosen up a little and have fun. Waving over the bartender, I ordered the strongest thing I could possibly think of while showing him my fake ID to confirm my fake age. By all technicalities, I was 20 at the time and wasn't going to turn 21 for another eight months, but when you're a criminal it's easy to ignore such useless laws without putting in a second thought.

The bartender stared at my face for much longer than I thought necessary, but since I wasn't exactly in the mood to start picking fights with strangers, I let it slide with a forced smile. I was used to people staring at me. I assumed that it was because I had this strange... dangerous quality about me that people just loved to analyze under a microscope, but it was also probably because I was by no means _ugly._ I knew that I was above average when it came to appearances, and I constantly used it to my advantage during jobs; You wouldn't believe how much trust you could earn from simply having a pretty face.

"Hey there, beautiful," a nasty, gravelly voice said from behind me. It took everything I had within me to not turn around and lay a punch on the pervert, for he was just a couple feet too close to me - so close that I could feel his alcohol ridden breath fan out across my bare neck. Instead, I simply swiveled around in the barstool I was sitting in to get a better look at his face.

He was a middle-aged man, and he looked eerily similar to the man I had held at gunpoint only a week before. A greasy red beard covered his chin and neck, and he was wearing a way-too-small wife beater shirt that was covered in strangely colored stains.

I suppose that I was staring at him for too long, for after a few seconds the corners of his thin chapped lips pulled up into a sickening smile, and he spread his arms out like an eagle preparing to take flight, completely ignoring the large amount of drink that swished out of the glass in his hand and onto the floor.

"Like what you see?" He asked, probably attempting to sound sexy while doing so but ending up sounding like an animal on its deathbed.

Rather than wasting my mental energy replying to the sick bastard, I returned to the untouched drink that sat in front of me and brought the cold glass to my lips and downed its contents within seconds - a trick I learned from my pops. A long, low groan of appreciation sounded from behind me, and without any warning, a large and clammy hand rested onto the exposed skin my tight black crop top left on my side. A small smile tugged at the corners of my lips.

 _Now, this is what I call fun._

Within a fraction of a second, I was out of my seat and holding the perverted man in a tight chokehold. I ignored the grunts of protest that came out of his throat and brought my lips down to his ear in a way that could be mistaken as seductive.

"Touch me again, asshole, and I swear to god I will hurt you so badly you'll be wishing you were dead," I warned him in a low and threatening voice. When he didn't respond, I released my chokehold on him and gave him a hard shove towards the crowd of people that were gathered a few feet in front of us, watching with shocked expressions on their faces - well most of them looked shocked at least. All but one.

Once our eyes met, it was impossible to break contact. I found myself lost in the green pools and couldn't seem to find my way out of them. Seconds passed - then nearly a minute, and every other person in the crowd had wandered off to wherever the hell they went, and he was still staring into my eyes with the same expression on his face. He looked at me with a hint of recognition - like he knew me from somewhere but couldn't quite place a finger on it. He began to cautiously approach me after what seemed like years.

Rather than introducing himself once he reached me, he said, "Well that was..." he let his voice trail off.

"Stupid?" I attempted to complete for him, with a somewhat amused look on my face. I was still staring into his eyes.

"No, not stupid. Not even close," he said quickly - defensively.

I found it cute.

"I was thinking more along the lines of... completely badass."

He seemed to consider something for a moment, then he held out one of his large hands for a handshake. "Percy," he introduced himself.

I took his hand without a second of thought, and smiled a little to myself when I discovered it wasn't clammy, but rather calloused and rough in a good way. Without thinking my words through, I did the most stupid thing I could have possibly done at the moment and let a part of the walls I had spent my whole life building up fall down, and showed Percy, this complete stranger, a part of me that I hadn't shown anyone for a very long time.

"Annabeth."

 **Sexy sexy chapter (lemonade - not lemons) will be posted once this story gets three more reviews.**


	3. IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE

**Hey, guys! Super sorry if you were hoping that I finally updated this story and were disappointed to see a dumb authors note - I just needed to make an announcement.**

 **So as much as I love fanfiction, I've decided that it's time I branch out in order to further embrace my creativity. I have begun to publish ORIGINAL STORIES on wattpad and I'm so, so excited. These are the first stories that are 100% me and I am very happy that I am able to share this part of me with the world.**

 **If you want to check out the story I currently have published, the information is listed below!**

Wattpad Username - sydney_ps

Story - Downpour

Meet Roman Hernandez; one of the best agents the FBI has ever seen. Meet Storm; the girl at the top of the America's most wanted list. He's smart, cunning, and a stubborn pain in the ass that doesn't stop until he gets what he wants. She's dangerous, powerful, and perhaps the most beautiful thing Roman has ever laid eyes on. Will the unlikely pair be able to put their differences aside and accept their feelings for one another?

~ He was good, she was bad, and their love was incredible. ~

Storm - a name you could hardly go five minutes without hearing. Some saw her as a criminal, other a rightful vigilante, but one thing that everyone could agree on was that the abilities she possessed were hardly human.

Roman Hernandez was the best agent ever seen by the FBI. His aim was perfection, his reflexes were insane - his life was perfect. That is until he came across a clip of the infamous Storm doing what she was best at - being bad. Not even his years of training could prepare him for what happens when they finally meet.

 **Please check out this story! I am very excited to finally be writing a story that's completely a product of my imagination! If you have a wattpad account feel free to follow me and shoot me a PM so we can talk :). I won't be using fanfiction to publish my work anymore so you won't be able to reach me on here from now on :(**


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